


and the heat is burning wild

by kingsofneon



Series: back in action [4]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, M/M, Multi, Nipple Clamps, Overstimulation, Temperature Play, just a little triangle of boyfriends being assholes and getting the upperhand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:42:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22839502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsofneon/pseuds/kingsofneon
Summary: Past tense: Marcohadan aphrodisiac.It's not his anymore. (His boyfriends have sticky fingers.)
Relationships: Fushicho Marco | Phoenix Marco/Portgas D. Ace/Sabo, Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Sabo
Series: back in action [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641943
Comments: 7
Kudos: 88





	and the heat is burning wild

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fallen_Angel_1827](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallen_Angel_1827/gifts).



> **Should you continue this [and the heat is burning wild https://archiveofourown.org/works/11486409/chapters/25771533 |||| https://archiveofourown.org/works/11486409/chapters/26958285] can we have an over-sensitized and whimpering Marco? The thought of him being at somebody else’s mercy is just hot.** requested by fallen_angel et all, their usename has numbers so like FUCK that lmao
> 
> BAM yah boy has finished up the trifecta

The problem is this: both Ace and Sabo have had a turn riding out Marco’s little aphrodisiac, and both greatly enjoyed both sight and sensation, but the toothpaste is empty and Marco’s yet to have experienced it.

So they had to get a little bit more creative.

“Don’t touch,” Sabo chides, his arm hooked through Marco’s elbow and his body pressed against Marco’s side, “you know you’ll just make it worse.”

Marco’s hand, fluttering up to his chest, paused, and Sabo grins. The flick of Marco’s tongue traces his lips, but it takes a moment before his throat is clear enough to speak.

“It’s already-” he stops, fumbling for the word, and Sabo leans his head on Marco’s shoulder. “Distracting.”

“Me or the gift?”

Marco looks down to glare at him, and Sabo bats his eyelashes, knowing his shit-eating grin doesn’t help him pull off ‘innocent’. 

“ _You_ ,” Marco drawls, “are a pest. Distracting, yes, but in the same way as an insect.”

“ _Cruel,”_ Sabo says, mock-hurt in his tone, but Marco’s sharp words do little to dampen Sabo’s smile. Marco shoves his hands even further into his pockets, but Sabo can see the faint line of sweat that trickles down his temple, and the way his cheeks are flushed from the heat.

Well, that and his embarrassment, Sabo thinks to himself with a grin. He squishes Marco’s arm closer to himself, a touch of comfort and possessiveness, and Marco looks down at him and offers a wan smile.

“You look so sweaty,” Sabo says softly, running his hand over the bit of Marco’s wrist that isn’t covered by his jacket. “Are you sure you don’t want to take your coat off?”

Marco snorts. “Right, and show everybody what I’m wearing.”

“Promise I won’t get jealous,” Sabo says, fluttering his eyelashes, and Marco scoffs.

His next retort is stolen by a cashier smiling at them, and Marco offers a wan smile back, brushing off the offer of assistance as they turn down the next aisle. They unlock arms momentarily as Marco grabs juice and Sabo stays enraptured by the candy display, but a moment later he realises that Marco’s trying to slide away into the next aisle and a wicked grin comes to Sabo’s face. 

“Hey, Mar,” Sabo says, and takes quick step forwards. “Come here.”

Marco’s eyes go wide, and he opens his mouth for a protest; but that just makes it easy for Sabo to twist his fingers near the lapels of Marco’s shirt, feeling links of chain get caught in the fabric, and pull Marco close for a filthy kiss. Marco gasps and stumbles, pulled down to Sabo’s height, and Sabo grins when he presses their mouths together, loving how breathless Marco sounds, the way he uselessly whimpers into Sabo’s mouth. 

His fingers curl in the shirt, twisting blue fabric and slender metal, and Marco outright whimpers into his mouth, his hands falling to clasp desperately at Sabo’s shoulders. It’s always a delightful surprise to remember how sensitive Marco’s chest is, and, no doubt, it’s even worse today with all the teasing Sabo and Ace have done. 

Marco barely responds when Sabo nips at his bottom lip, his body trembling, and regretfully Sabo pulls back, laying softer kisses against his lips as he leaves. 

He’s not nice enough to let go of the chain first; he pulls it taut, till he can see the clamps straining against Marco’s jacket, and then smooths Marco’s shirt back into place. 

“Baaaby,” he calls, tauntingly, but Marco only tightens his grip on Sabo’s shoulders and doesn’t speak, his breath rising and falling in desperate pants. 

“Home?” he finally asks, and when he looks up, Sabo’s delighted by the edge of desperation in his eyes. 

Sabo pats him on the cheek. “We’re not done shopping yet, darling.”

* * *

Sabo drags out the shopping till Marco has to stagger back up the stairs into their apartment. As soon as he unlocks the door, he makes a beeline for the couch, not even helping Sabo take the shopping into the kitchen. 

But that’s the benefit of two boyfriends, Sabo thinks with a grin as Ace waylays Marco and pins him against the wall, hands flat against Marco’s chest. An extra pair of hands. 

He puts the grocery bags down on the kitchen table, listening to Marco’s voice rise in moans as Ace does as he pleases, and each sound feels like a little hook in his skin, trying to encourage him to join in. 

But they have a _plan,_ and he’ll get another turn in just a minute. He strolls to the fridge, cracking open the freezer and pulling out one of the containers of ice that he and Ace had frozen in preparation for today. The crack of resettling ice isn’t audible over Marco’s sudden bright whimper, but Sabo is sure it’s there none-the-less. 

Carrying the ice with him, he goes to lean against the doorframe and wait for Ace to notice him. 

Marco’s half-dressed, now, jacket lost to the hall and shirt hanging around his elbows as Ace lets his hands roam and steals greedy kisses. Between the press of their bodies, Sabo can see how flushed Marco’s chest is, the vibrancy of silver steel pinching bright red into the areola of his abused nipples. 

One of Ace’s hands slips from Marco’s waist to the clamp, and Sabo sees the sliver of Ace’s eye watching him before Ace winks. He pulls back when he takes the first clip off, and the groan Marco makes is so low and guttural that Sabo shivers, a feral grin on his face.

“Nice,” he says, and then shakes the box, letting ice clink together. Marco stiffens against the wall, his eyes opening and searching for the noise. 

“Sabo,” he whispers, “please-”

“Mmm, how long was it, that he left you?” Sabo asks, ignoring Marco entirely to look at Ace, and Ace pets along Marco’s shoulders, trying to push out the tension that leaves Marco high-strung and near-vibrating. 

“Two hours. Plus, riding it out - another three.”

“Oof, see, that’s so mean!” Sabo says, looking at Marco. “What if Ace hadn’t enjoyed it?”

Marco looks pained, and Sabo figures that it’s probably because of guilt, but he can’t rule out Marco’s clever mind figuring out why Sabo’s got the ice. It’s not a hard conclusion to jump to, after all.

“So, five hours, and you’re barely through hour three. Why should we be nice? Ace didn’t get a helping hand till you came home.”

“We’re home,” Marco says, but the words are tight, and Sabo knows for certain, now, that Marco’s figured them out. 

“So we’re giving you a helping hand,” Ace says, but he’s grinning viciously, mean like he never usually is, and Sabo feels his stomach tighten. He likes that expression on Ace’s face, and even though it’s not directed at him it’s still annoyingly, arousing. 

Ace tugs the other clip off, making Marco yelp, and then he reaches out and fishes an ice block from the container Sabo offers. In a swift movement he presses it to Marco’s heated skin, and Marco _yelps,_ hands clawing at Ace’s shoulders. He presses against the wall he’s leaning on to stay standing, legs shaking, but his body betrays the pleasure, pressing into the sting of ice against heat. 

Pathetic whimpers fall from his mouth as Ace slides the ice off his nipple and onto the middle of his chest, and Sabo watches as water slides down the middle of Marco’s abdomen, his stomach flinching away from the chill. 

Unwilling to let Ace have all the fun, he snags an ice cube of his own and drops it down Marco’s pants. 

“Sa- Ace- ah- _please-!”_

The howl Marco creates is nothing short of animalistic, and it’s only Ace’s hands on his shoulders that keep him upright and against the wall. He squirms, desperate, and slams his palms against the wall, clawing for purchase. Desperate whimpers and unsteady sobs make his shoulders shake, and as he squeezes his eyes shut, Sabo can see the start of tears in his eyes.

Sabo presses a kiss to Marco’s cheek and tastes salt on his lips. “Told you I could make him cry.”

“Didn’t doubt it,” Ace says, pressing his mouth to Marco’s chest as he slides the ice cube onto Marco’s other nipple, catching Marco’s hitching sobs against his mouth. He pulls back, taking both tongue and ice off Marco to watch him shake and shiver and try and regain control now that sensation has been deprived, and looks at Sabo appraisingly. “How many ice cubes do we have left?” 

“Wanna guess, Marco?” Sabo asks, watching Marco’s turn into little slits as he stares at them, “If you’re right, we’ll half it.”

“Wrong?” he asks, the sound more a grunt, and Sabo can see, from the corner of his eye, that Ace’s smile is just as vicious as his own. 

“Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

**Author's Note:**

> review


End file.
